


Mein Teil

by Rammstein6669



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Armin Mewies, Bernd Brandt, Body Horror, Cannibalism, Consensual murder?, Dismemberment, Extreme Gore, Gore, Love cannibalism, M/M, Sexual Content, Violence, and biographies, dates and times are all pulled directly from research, don’t @ me, graphic depictions of murder, i don’t even know how to tag this, the german court was wrong and it shouldn’t have been a life sentence, this is pretty accurate tbh, true story, uhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22536178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rammstein6669/pseuds/Rammstein6669
Summary: “Suche gut gebauten 18-30jährigen zum Schlachten“-Der Metzgermeister
Relationships: Cator/Franky, Surprise pairing!
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Mein Teil

**Author's Note:**

> So this was a nasty, nasty idea I had for years and it’s been sitting in my finished work forEVER now. I’m gonna get bullied if I don’t post it but probably also if I do so!!!!!! Please read the tags and heed the warnings, as it contains VERY descriptive gore. If anyone wants more details about the case or wants to talk in depth about it, hit me up! All of the quotes are either directly from Meiwes’ mouth or loosely spun off of official biographies. All the little specific details in here, such as license plate numbers, architectural designs, etc. are also 100% accurate. Spent a lot of time researching this one!

|  
Kassel-Wilhelmshöhe train station, March 9, 2001, 10:14 a.m.  
|  
The sound of the ICE train screeching to a halt on rusty tracks pierced the air. The door opened and people flowed out, completely unknowing as to what was so special about the fit and attractive man who was one of the first ones to exit. People chattered about irrelevant and mundane topics such as politics and the weather, all a facade to fit in society. The man, whose black hair was styled into short spikes, wore perfectly fitted blue jeans, a dark t-shirt, and a matching black jacket. He walked slowly towards the designated meeting spot, a wide open train platform next to a large statue. He looked around and saw him immediately, a tall man with dark hair that hung in front of his face. He wore black jeans and a black jacket. In fact, the only thing that wasn't black about his appearance was his pale skin and the red checkered scarf that hung loosely around his neck. 

"Cator?" The taller man asked shyly with a deep, baritone voice. 

"Franky." The other smiled quickly. "Nice to see you. Let's get off of the platform. There are too many people."

"Sure." He responded compliantly. 

The two men walked out of the train station silently, a considerable height difference between them. Any passerby would think them friends, or perhaps brothers. However, they were much more. 

When they exited the building, the taller of the two led them towards a Lancia Kappa Kombi diesel. They both entered the car without a word spoken. 

The vehicle, with the number tag HEF-TW 11, moved smoothly at a high speed. The two men sat silently as they exited Kassel. The taller of the two kept his eyes focused on the road as his hands gripped the wheel, his palms sweaty with anticipation. He inhaled sharply and his grip tightened when he felt a sturdy hand encase his crotch. 

"No. I want to focus on driving." He said sternly. However, the other continued his ministrations. He began to stroke and knead the other's groin with needy fingers as he started to unzip his pants. 

"Stop it." He commanded with a deep voice. "Wait until we're in my home. It's only 60 kilometers."

The other put his hands back in his lap and stared straight ahead as he sighed deeply. He was aflame with desire. 

The ride seemed endless to the two men. But finally, they reached their destination, a massive, half timbered farmhouse with a large courtyard. The long circular driveway had rusted and broken cars lining it. Six to be exact. 

"Your house is huge." The younger man said with awe. 

"It was built as early as 900 A.D. as a border station. It has 36 rooms. Although, I imagine we will be spending most of our time in one." The taller man grinned at the other as he uttered the last sentence. Both knew exactly what he meant. He parked the car close to the entryway and took the key out of the ignition. "Shall we?" He asked with a warm tone. The other nodded his approval and both made their way into the farmhouse.  
|  
Wüstefeld estate, 11:30 a.m.  
|  
The two men went right to the living room. It was furnished with Victorian style furniture and fragile antiques. It seemed as though the house was from another era. 

Franky offered the younger man a seat on the couch. "I'll go get us some coffee." He said with a emotionless face. He made his way into the kitchen and began to brew it. He grabbed his mother's best porcelain cups and put them neatly on a tray. He carefully poured the hot liquid into the fragile ceramics, steam rising from them. When he returned to the living room he was hit with surprise. Cator stood completely naked in the living room. 

The taller man placed the tray on a dusty side table and moved closer to the other. He inspected his body with the concentration and formality of a physician. He looked at every detail of his smooth skin. He wasn't extremely muscular, but he was trim and fit. He had a beautiful figure. He was perfect. 

Franky quickly became concerned. Anyone walking by could see into the greenhouse that was attached to the living room. 

"Get away from there." He said quickly, yet not stern. "Come into the dining room before someone sees you. Or put some clothes on."

The younger man sighed with disappointment but ultimately accepted the other's request. However, he refused to put more than a shirt on. 

The two men sat in the greenhouse and talked as they drank their coffee. Everything had been planned ahead of time, so they discussed basic topics like the weather. However, it wasn't long before the smaller of the two grew too excited to continue. 

"C'mon," he spoke with audible eagerness. "Show me the room."

Franky knew exactly what he meant. And he did so without hesitation.  
|  
Wüstefeld estate, 12:03 p.m.  
|  
Franky slowly opened the door to the room and switched on the light. The younger man walked in and admired what was before him. 

The small room had ropes, hooks, and pulleys hanging on a track on the ceiling. A wooden St. Andrew's Cross stood against a wall next to an old bed and a makeshift cage. In the center of the room stood a large metal table with a drain near the bottom. 

Cator looked around in awe, his blood already beginning to boil with excitement. It was at this moment he knew. Nothing could stop him now. This was his chance. 

The younger man rushed towards the other and kissed him aggressively. Franky was slightly surprised but he quickly gave in and returned the kiss. They hurriedly moved to the bed which was covered in a white sheet. However, the older man interrupted them. 

"Hold on." He spoke with a smile. 

Cator watched him with curiosity as he moved to the corner of the room. He was surprised to see him turning on a video camera which sat dormant on a tripod. 

"I want to be able to relive this moment." Franky said as he returned to the other. "I've waited my entire life."

The smaller man laid on his back and the larger man straddled his thighs with a grin. They ground their hips together as strokes and caresses were shared between the two. The older man quickly rid himself of his clothes, the other removing the shirt he wore. Cator pulled the other on top of him, their erections rubbing against each other. They kissed with intensity but a distorted request interrupted it. 

"Bite me." Cator said loudly. 

It wasn't his desire, but the taller man knew he had to give the other what he needed. He moved towards his neck and gently bit down on the cords that stuck out. Cator moaned at the feeling, however, it wasn't enough. 

"Harder!" He demanded, mind blurred by lust. 

Franky took a deep breath and bit down with force. The younger man gasped at the sharp pain of his skin breaking where the other's pointed canines dug in. His breath stuttered as the taller man moved down his chest and placed trails of painful bites. He didn't try to suppress the pleasured groan when the other bit down hard on the muscles of his hand. Although, it still wasn't what he wanted. 

"Harder, goddamnit!" He commanded with anger. "Tear the flesh from my bones! Do it!" 

Franky looked up with fear in his eyes, his submissiveness shining through. He moved lower until he reached the younger man's erection, a small drop of precum dripping slowly down. He moved past it and bit as hard as he could on the sensitive flesh of the other's inner thigh, Cator sitting bolt upright and screaming with pleasured pain. He started to get up but the younger man grabbed him by the hair and forced him back down. 

"Bite my cock." He demanded. 

Franky took a deep breath and slowly placed his mouth on the other's hardness. He worked up enough courage and bit gently on the soft flesh, the younger man hissing in pain as he did.

"Harder!" He screamed. "Bite it off!" 

The older man's hands shook and he bit as hard as he could, the metallic taste of blood blessing his palate. Cator screamed in pain as he came with intense force, body convulsing with pleasure. The other tried his best to swallow everything the other had to offer. 

Cator pulled the older man up and kissed him again, smiling at the taste of his own blood on the other's tongue. He looked down to see the larger man's cock, completely unaroused. 

"That didn't make you horny?" He questioned crudely. 

"My desire isn't to bite, it's to slaughter you." The taller man spoke softly. "But I need to fulfill your wishes first."

The younger man pulled him back in for a kiss, tongues lazily caressing each other. They laid silently and tightly entwined in each other's arms until Cator spoke up. 

"Shall we get going?"

"Surely."  
|  
Wüstefeld estate, 3:30 p.m.  
|  
Franky led the shorter man downstairs and into the bathroom. He opened a small cabinet above the sink to reveal a collection of medicine and supplies. 

"These will probably work the best." He spoke softly as he handed Cator a bottle of Vivinox sleeping pills. 

The younger man took a handful, ten to be exact, and swallowed them as quickly as possible. 

"Do you want this too?" The older man questioned as he held out a small bottle of Wick-MediNait. 

Cator took the bottle and immediately drank all of it much to Franky's surprise. They stared at each other for a moment as if expecting the effects to take place immediately. Both men laughed softly as they realized it might be a while.

"I want to try to sleep a little bit." Cator told the other. "Let the pills take effect."

They made their way to the slaughter room, both men resting together on the bed. Cator quickly grew frustrated with his inability to sleep and the fact that he was not the slightest bit drowsy.

"Do you have alcohol?" He questioned with a small hint of anger in his tone. 

Franky nodded and immediately went downstairs to the kitchen. He returned with a nearly full bottle of schnapps. He gave it to the younger man who drank about half before lying back down in the bed. He moved uncomfortably for nearly a half hour before he couldn't take it any more. 

"I can't stand it any longer! Lets do it! Now!" Cator spoke with desperation. 

"Alright, if you want to, we will."  
|  
Wüstefeld estate, 4:45 pm  
|  
Cator waited in the slaughter room as Franky retrieved a wooden cutting board from the kitchen. He took a deep breath a managed a small smile as the other returned. The taller man set the board down on the large metal table in the center of the room and placed a small slaughter knife beside it. He turned to look at the other. 

"Are you ready for this?" He questioned. 

"I am." Cator responded truthfully. 

"You're sure you don't want to wait until the pills take effect?" Franky asked with concern. 

"I'm sure." The other responded decisively. "I want to feel the pain." 

Franky nodded his understanding and stepped up to the table, taking the knife in his left hand. Cator slowly approached and laid his penis on the cutting board. The taller man put the edge of the knife on the base of it. 

"I'll scream." Cator spoke with an emotionless voice. 

Franky looked at the other to check for a last minute sign of apprehension. However, there was none present. 

Franky abruptly pressed the knife downwards. Cator screamed in pain and jumped back away from the table. He glanced down with dismay to see blood forming large droplets on the small cut on his length. 

"The knife isn't sharp, get another!" Cator demanded of the taller man. 

"But I checked to make sure it was!" Franky restored desperately. 

"But you saw that is doesn't cut?" Cator spoke with growing anger and disappointment. 

Franky, with dropped shoulders and sorrowful eyes, hurriedly left to go back into the kitchen. He grabbed a large butcher's cleaver and ran back up to the slaughter room. Cator was standing in the center of the room inspecting the extent of the injury. Not much. 

Upon seeing the other holding a new knife, Cator immediately put his dick back on the wooden board. The taller man once again took hold of it and held the knife poised above. As soon as the smaller man nodded his approval, Franky slashed through the other's flesh with three quick strokes. The younger man jumped back and shrieked with pain, his chest heaving with breath. He blinked rapidly as he felt himself about to lose his balance; however, Franky was immediately by his side to support him. Pain shot through his groin and radiated up his his back, making him groan. He glanced down and stared at the trail of blood on the table and floor. 

"Does it ever hurt! I'm passing out!" Cator spoke with a mixture of enthusiasm and pain. He jumped from subject to subject. "Look how you sawed around!"

"That's the way you wanted it." Franky responded with a small grin. Now this was exciting. 

The two men looked at the younger's wound with interested amazement. Cator was delighted with how freely it bled. However, reality did catch up. 

"Franky, I have no pain at all. It's astounding." The shorter man spoke with surprise. "But I'm going to go unconscious from the blood loss. We need to bandage it."

Franky, who was more than adequately prepared, went to the bathroom to retrieve gauze and medical tape. He returned and immediately bandaged the other, thoroughly running the white cloth around his defined hips and taping it in place. He enjoyed running his hands across his taut flesh and muscles. 

"I want to eat it." Cator said decisively. 

Franky anxiously agreed. He returned to the cutting board and carefully split the organ in half lengthwise. He handed half to Cator who immediately tried to tear of a piece of the flesh. However, it was too tough to be torn. Both men were dismayed. 

"It'll probably be better roasted." The taller man told the other in an attempt to please him. 

Franky took the half and placed it back on the cutting board. Cator sat on the edge of the bed as he made his way to the kitchen. As he started the descend the stairs, he heard the other call out to him. 

"Don't get any ideas about calling an emergency medic." Cator commanded.  
|  
Wüstefeld Estate, 7:00 pm  
|  
Franky rinsed both halves of the severed organ off in the sink, whistling a thoughtless tune as he did so. He placed them on a clean carving board and snapped a photo of them with an old Polaroid camera. He set a pot of water on the stove to boil, brining the water with salt as it heated. Once it came to a boil, he set both halves of the organ into the water to blanch them. However, much to his distress, they immediately swelled out of shape. He hurriedly removed them and rinsed them under cold water from the tap. He then grabbed a frying pan from the cabinet above the sink and set it upon the stovetop. He poured a small puddle of oil in the middle and stated to heat it. Once it began to crackle, he placed the halves on the pan, adding salt, pepper, and garlic to season them. Unfortunately, and again to Franky's distress, the spongey flesh quickly shrank in size and hardened. Regardless, he removed them from the pan and placed them on the finest china plate he had, embellishing it with fresh cut tomatoes and basil. He made his way back upstairs hurriedly, once again whistling as he went. 

When Franky arrived back in the slaughter room, Cator was laying on his back on the small bed. The blood from his wound had completely soaked a portion of the mattress. He handed him the red bordered china plate. The shorter man stood and took half of the organ, immediately trying to bite into it as Franky did the same. However, to their frustration and disappointment, it was near solid. 

"It's not edible, either raw or roasted." Cator spoke sadly. 

Frankly silently took the plate and dumped into the black, plastic bucket he had set out for slaughter waste. They were silent with awkwardness for a moment until Cator finally spoke out. 

"If I hold out until tomorrow, we can eat my balls for breakfast. One for you and one for me." He grinned. 

Although the comment was completely serious, it eased the tension monumentally. Franky smiled back and approached the other. 

"I'm going to lay back down" Cator said as he eased himself onto the bed. "I don't want to soak the whole room with blood, and I want to try to sleep."

The taller man sat on the edge of the mattress and stared into the other's eyes. They did not talk, but the silence was not awkward nor uncomfortable. However, Cator eventually did speak up. 

"Can you put some music on?" He asked the other. "Just an ordinary broadcast."

"Of course." Franky responded warmly as he rose up from the bed. He went over to the old radio that sat in the corner of the room and put on FFH due to the fact that they always played the biggest hits. He then turned off the ceiling light and switched on a dimmer floor lamp. After fulfilling the younger man's request, he returned to his spot on the edge of the bed. 

Franky looked at the other and gently ran his fingers down the side of his face, leaving a faint trail of blood against his incredibly pale skin. He couldn't believe this was finally happening. 

"Cator," he began softly. "I'm sorry this hasn't gone as planned so far, but...I promise everything else will be perfect. I'm promise."

Cator simply stared at him. 

"I just wanted to tell you that," the older man's voice broke with emotion. "You are absolutely beautiful, and you are the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Unshed tears clung to Franky's long eyelashes as a single crystalline drop rolled down the other's pale cheek. He gently wiped it away and caressed his face. They stared into each other's damp eyes until the silence was finally broken by Cator. 

"My real name is Richard." The younger man spoke softly. 

"I'm Till."  
|  
Wüstefeld Estate, sometime around 8:00 pm  
|  
Till left Richard to rest and went downstairs to pass some time. He went to his bedroom and read poetry by Walther von der Vogelweide in the Codexx Manessa. Every 15 minutes he checked on the younger man to see if he was asleep, unconscious, or even dead. The first time he went up, Richard had spoken to him very decisively. 

"As soon as I'm asleep, I want you to slit my throat." He requested without fear or hesitation. 

Till had nodded his understanding, but a small tremor ran up his spine. The thought of killing this man whom he had come to know so intimately was disheartening. However, he knew it was necessary in order for both of them to achieve their goals. 

Now, nearly an hour and a half had gone by after the castration. Before Till had a chance to check on the younger man again, he called out to him from the slaughter room. Till immediately rushed up the stairs to see him. 

"Till, I'm so cold." Richard spoke as he shook, his pale skin covered in goosebumps. "Can you run some hot water for me? Then the blood can flow out of my body better."

"Yeah, of course, Richard." The older man responded readily. He went to the bathroom on the first floor and turned on the bath water. By the time he had laid out towels and adjusted the water temperature, Richard made his way to the blue tiled bathroom on his own. When he arrived, Till helped him sit on the edge of the tub as he explained the faucet handles. 

"This one is hot and this one is cold." He narrated as he pointed at the different handles. "The boiler will take about five to ten minutes to heat the water because it's old."

Till helped the younger man stand so he could remove the bandages. He gently pulled the tape off the now red cloth and carefully unwound it from the other's hips. They stared at one another for a long moment, almost as if trying to sear the images of the other's face into their mind. 

Eventually they broke apart. Till supported the smaller man's arm as he eased himself into the high walled bathtub. He slowly sat down, the clear, steaming water softly enveloping his weakening frame. The liquid quickly turned pink, then a deep, wine red as blood flowed rapidly from his wound. 

"Look at it." Richard spoke with tired, morbid enthusiasm. "It's like a spring."

"Does it excite you?" Till questioned with truthful curiosity. 

"Yes, deeply." The other responded with a sigh. "You know, I cut myself often at home. One time the wound bled for a full 24 hours. My...friend was completely repulsed by it."

Till sat silently, taking in everything the other revealed. He stared at him and took in his details; black, spiked hair, long eyelashes, defined jawline, full lips. Till's eyes then slid down to his muscular frame. His shoulders and pecs were defined sharply under pale, smooth-shaven skin. On the forums Till visited, female breasts were highly sought after for the cut quality. He could hardly imagine how lean and superb the younger man's beautiful pectorals would be. He was truly the luckiest man on earth. Till was startled back to reality by the other calling his name out. 

"Till, I want to sleep in the tub." He spoke tiredly. His voice was growing smaller by the minute. 

"Ok. I'll be in the next room over. If you need me, just yell." Till informed the other. 

"Can you put the radio on louder so I can hear it from here?" The younger man questioned tiredly. 

"Of course." Till responded as he rose up from his perch on the side of the tub. He gently stroked the other's damp shoulder and left the room. He turned the volume of the radio up then went to his bedroom. He continued from where he had left off in the Codexx Manessa, fully immersing himself in Vogelweide's writing. Just as before, Till went to the bathroom to check on the younger man every 15 minutes. Richard repeatedly ran the hot water, re-warming it whenever it grew too cold. Eventually he closed his eyes and gathered sleep in small increments. 

Till was reading, what he believed to be, Vogelweide's best and most solemn piece, A Mournful One Am I. 

"A mournful one am I, above whose head  
A day of perfect bliss hath never past;  
Whatever joys my soul have ravished,  
Soon was the radiance of those joys o'ercast. 

And none can show me that substantial pleasure  
Which will not pass away like bloom from flowers;  
Therefore, no more my heart such joys shall treasure,  
Nor pine for fading sweets and fleeting hours"

Till was finishing the last set of stanzas when he heard Richard call out to him. He immediately set the book down and moved quickly into the bathroom. As soon as he entered, the younger man slowly stood up. He swung one tall leg around the edge of the tub and then the other. As soon as he pushed himself to standing, his legs collapsed beneath him and he hit the ground unconscious.

Till rushed to the other's side, kneeling beside him and supporting his head. He gently patted his face, whispered softly in his ear. 

"Richard, come back to me. You can do it." 

After five minutes of trying to wake the younger man and contemplating what to do, Till finally succeeded. Richard slowly opened his eyes, glancing around the room groggily. 

"What happened?" He questioned with confusion. 

"You went unconscious." Till responded matter of factly. "Let's get you up to the bedroom."

The older man grabbed the other under the arms and hauled him to his feet. As soon as he stood on his own, Richard once again fell unconscious. His legs gave out beneath him and Till swore as he was forced to bear the full brunt of the other's weight. While he was slightly shorter than Till, he had a large build and was heavily muscled. 

Till contemplated how to carry the other up to the bedroom. He could drag him there, but that would bruise him and possibly damage some of his muscles. Instead, he bent down and let the younger man's body slump over his back. He hooked an arm through his legs and grunted as he pushed himself to standing. He brought him to the stairs in a fireman carry, pausing for a breath at the bottom. He started to climb, careful not to lose his balance and fall backwards. His body wanted him to stop, but he willed himself forward by thinking of what was to come in the near future. 

When he was halfway up the stairs, he felt the other rustling against his back. When Till heard him mumbling incoherently, he set him down onto his feet and supported him. 

"Richard," Till spoke softly to him as he pushed his damp damp hair off of his forehead. "Can you walk?" 

Richard slowly regained awareness and nodded to the other. He tightly held on to the older man's shoulder and forced himself to walk forwards. His legs were weak and felt like gelatin beneath him; however, he knew he had to help Till. He focused on the small movements he was making. Step forward with the left foot. Transfer weight onto it. Follow with the right. After a few moments of this, he slowly started to feel better. His awareness and wakefulness returned at a somewhat quick rate. By the time they reached the top of the stairs, he felt lively and much better than before. He pushed away from the older man and stood on his own. Till looked at him with concern. 

"Richard, are you—"

"Yes!" He interrupted "If I walk now, the circulation will start again, then the blood will flow out better. I'll pass out faster and then you can finally do it."

They made their way to the bedroom and Till helped the other into the bed. He was frigid because of how soaked his skin was from the water, so the taller man retrieved another blanket for him. Richard then spoke once again. 

"And remember, Till." He demanded with a stern voice that made the taller man shiver as the memory of his domineering mother. "Don't you even think about calling a medic."

"Of course not."  
|  
Wüstefeld Estate, March 10, 2001, 3:30 am  
|  
Till had once again been checking on the younger man every 15 to 20 minutes when he heard noise coming from upstairs. He immediately rushed up to see Richard lying unconscious on the floor. He had stumbled over a pair of boards from an unfinished project that had been resting on the floor. 

Till hoisted him up onto the bed and eventually got him back to wakefulness. He was completely delusional. 

"Till..." He slurred. "Till where are you? Where am I?" He tried to sit up but the older man held him down. "I have to piss."

Till gently patted his head and reassured him. "I'm right here, Richard." He spoke softly. "You're in the slaughter room, remember? And just piss into the bed. It's already full of blood. If you get up now you won't make it. You have no blood left in you."

"No, no." Richard insisted with fluttering eyes. "I have to go." 

He tried to rise to his feet but immediately collapsed again. 

Till couldn't bring him to.  
|  
Wüstefeld Estate, 4:15 am  
|  
Till grunted as he laid Richard's motionless body onto the slaughter table. In case he woke up, he tied the younger man's arms and legs down with ropes he had set up in preparation. He put on a butchers apron which he had made at home and fastened it to himself with an army belt. He labeled a videocassette and inserted it into the camera that sat dormant in the corner of the room. He approached Richard. 

"My pulse is racing," he spoke softly as he touched the other's neck. "Yours isn't at all."

He picked up the long bladed knife with badly trembling hands; however, he set it back down. He released a deep sigh and hesitated for a long moment. 

"Lord..." He began; however, he paused. He didn't know if he should be praying to God or to the Devil. He eventually continued. "Forgive Richard, and forgive me, for what is about happen." 

Till took a deep breath and placed a gentle kiss to the others already chilled lips. He picked up the knife, but after a wavering breath, set it back down once again. He kissed him again, and then prayed once more. 

"Father, please bless this beautiful man who has sacrificed everything for me. May he rest peacefully and content within me, and may his family and friends recover quickly."

Till gently caressed the younger man's pallid cheek, kissed him, and again grabbed the knife. After a long hesitation with tears threatening to break free, he turned Richard's head to the and slid the knife into his neck. 

Till immediately felt a rush of emotions flooding through him. He wanted to scream with anger and hatred, not only at himself for what he had done, but at Richard for seeking him out for this. However, he also felt a sense of extreme joy and accomplishment. It had ended exactly as Richard had wanted. 

He pulled the knife out from the younger man's throat and and slid it in the other way. Much to his surprise, blood did not spurt out, but merely ran down his neck in small rivulets. He then cut it open, tearing through the flesh and arteries until he reached the spinal column. He widened the opening, then went to quickly reposition the video camera. After a deep breath, he returned to his job. 

He set down a bucket to collect the blood that was slowly dripping out of the drain. He tied a rope around Richard's foot, slid it through a hook that hung from the ceiling, and tied it around his other foot. Using the pulleys mounted above him, he slowly pulled the other's body into the air. Till took a deep breath and looked at his work. 

He picked up a cleaver.  
|  
Wüstefeld Estate, about 5:00 am  
|  
Till whistled a pointless tune as he began to hack into the other man's quickly chilling flesh. He started in the genital region and slowly worked downwards, using the wide knife to cut through everything that wasn't bone. When he reached the abdomen, he cut it open without hesitation. He reached into the opening and began to pull innards from it, carefully cutting off select pieces of meat in the process. He discarded the liver due to the possibility of it holding toxins. He continued to cut downwards until he reached the sternum, making slight noises of effort as he reached underneath the ribs to attain the lungs and heart. When he finally pulled them free, he inspected them with curiosity. He was surprised by how small the heart was. 

Once he had cleaned out the abdomen and chest, he stepped back and took a deep breath. He tenderly placed both hands on the head, and abruptly twisted it. It took him multiple tries to completely remove it. Once it was severed, he placed it in a bowl and set the both on a table on the other side of the room. 

After he removed the head, Till began to pull the other's chest apart. He pulled out the hyoid bone, set it in the waste bucket, and then did the same for the windpipe. He gently caressed his arm and spoke. 

"Shall I cut you in half now, my darling?" 

Till once again grabbed the cleaver, and he began to split the body in half. He started at the groin, and after some time and significant effort, reached the neck. After bisecting the torso, he brought the pieces downstairs and rinsed them in hot water. Much to his convenience and joy, Richard had shaved before they met up, so he didn't have to do it himself. Once they were washed, he brought the pieces back upstairs. He hung them on slaughter hooks and began to carve them with skill. 

Till pulled skin off, worked the bones loose, and expertly divided the flesh into portions. He held up a severed arm to the camera and meticulously explained how he had carved it. He took a deep breath and yawned. 

Till glanced at his watch; it read 5:30 am. Birds were beginning to chirp outside as the sun peeked over the horizon. He set the flesh back onto the slaughter hooks and placed his knife down. He approached the video camera and turned it off, then, after glancing at his work appreciatively, shut the light to the room. He made his way downstairs and washed up in the bathroom. He removed his apron, cleaned the blood from himself, and went to his bedroom. He put on a clean set of blue pajamas and finally laid himself onto the bed. He fell asleep instantaneously. 

Four and a half hours later, around 10:00 am, Till awoke slowly. He opened his eyes and was greeted with warm ray of sunlight against his face. For a moment, he forgot about the events of the previous night. The images and memories of Richard flooded back at once, and he sat up abruptly with a smile on his face. He stretched and slid out from underneath the blankets, breathing deeply to relax himself further. He went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth. When he left the room, his muscle memory propelled him towards the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway and contemplated whether or not he should have a coffee. He decided not to. He had better things to tend to. 

Till made his way upstairs and walked into the slaughter room. He approached the pieces of the body and gently touched them. Much to his surprise, rigor mortis had yet to set in. It was difficult to properly dress the flesh until it had stiffened a bit, so he went back downstairs and made himself a coffee. He sat at the kitchen table and drank leisurely it while reading the paper. There were no events of interest. He thought about how he would love to post about what he had just done in the paper. It was by far the most eventful thing this little town had seen. 

After he had finished, he went back to his bedroom, which had been titled "Meadow" by his mother, and once again picked up his copy of the Codexx Manessa. He tried to immerse himself in the archaic poetry and art, but he was simply too excited to be able to focus. Deciding that the body upstairs was most likely stiff enough, he placed the book down. He went to the bathroom and put the bloody apron from the previous day on. He returned to the slaughter room.  
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Wüstefeld Estate, 12:00 pm  
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After wiping the dark, rust colored blood that had dried on the floor and flipping over and covering the blood soaked mattress, Till began to strip the down linens and his own dirty clothing. He brought them downstairs into the washing machine before changing into jeans and a brightly colored t-shirt. He eventually returned upstairs, this time wielding a eight inch long knife. He began the long process of painstakingly cutting apart the flesh and separating it into well defined cuts. Some he put through a meat grinder, while the rest is labeled with the name “Cator” and thorough descriptions of what the meat it to be used for later. He brought the nearly 60 blue, plastic bags downstairs where he carefully placed them in the deep freezer chest, next to the frozen pizza and bagged french fries. He stuffed a few remaining bones and limbs into the side before taking the head, which he had covered with a plastic bag, and placing it in the remaining space. He thoughtlessly covered it with two frozen pizzas so that it wasn’t so obvious to anyone who opened the freezer. He sighed after the strenuous job was done and returned upstairs, feeling a faint ache in his back from the previous night. He grabbed the plastic buckets full of waste—tendons, intestines, sinew and such—and carried them to the back yard. He grabbed a shovel from the shed and quickly dug a hole to dump the remains in. After covering it with dirt and some leaves, he went back into the house and sat at his computer with a relieved exhalation. He then proceeded to delete every digital footprint that Richard ever left, thanks to the passwords the other had given him in advance. 

Save for the silver Solartec watch that Richard wore the previous day and the flesh that resided in the freezer, there were no traces that he had ever even existed.  
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Wüstefeld Estate, March 11, 2002, evening  
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Till sat at his dining room table, his hands folded tightly in his lap. Before him, the table was set decadently, his late mother’s finest black porcelain placed carefully in front of him. He had retrieved the nicest tablecloth from the china cabinet, also grabbing and lighting the old candelabra. 

He had decided tonight was the night. He had gone into the freezer and grabbed the one bag that he had labeled exactly for this. 

“Cator – Back Filet”

Carefully holding the bagged flesh in his hands, he made his way back upstairs and into the kitchen. He had filled a bowl with warm water and put the bag in it in, letting the barely frozen meat thaw out. After a few hours, he had continued onto the next step. Till collected all of the ingredients he needed and proceeded to pan broil the steak with garlic and rosemary. He made an elegant green pepper sauce to go along with it before attentively plating in. He quickly grabbed the nicest bottle of red wine he had before bringing everything to the table. 

And now?

Now, Till sat silently at the dinner table. His glass of wine was untouched, as were his utensils. He sat motionlessly, staring at the plate in front of him. A feeling of strange, indescribably solemnity settled in his chest, and he took a deep breath. This was it. His wish, his dream, that which he had been harboring for nearly 30 years, was finally becoming reality. He carefully grabbed his fork and knife and cut off a small piece of the filet. He held it in front of his face and, after taking another deep breath, set it in his mouth. 

Till smiled. 

A large, proud grin made its way onto his face, and he just couldn’t stop smiling. The flesh, which tasted like a sharper, stronger pork, was immediately torn apart by his sharp incisors and blunt molars. Thoughts of Richard flashed through his mind, and he felt a bizarre mixture of excitement, melancholy, and disbelief. He realized that this was real. He had finally done it! His lifelong dream was accomplished. He swallowed the flesh, and he swore he could feel Richard’s presence in the room. Bit by bit the devoured the younger man, and he could feel his spirit integrating with himself. He didn’t know whether to cry or scream with joy, and he settled with simply continuing eating. He forced himself to keep a slow pace, and he was proud at his self restraint. After nearly ten minutes, Till took the last bite of the meat, letting the flavor truly settle in his mouth before swallowing it. He closed his eyes and simply listened to himself breathe, almost in a meditative state. 

Till sat silently at the table, his hands folded tightly in his lap. 

His dream was accomplished, and finally, after so many years of exclusion, solitude, and pain...

He was at peace.  
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Wüstefeld Estate, December 10, 2002, 8:45 am  
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Till, who had just finished buttoning his shirt as he prepared for work, a cup of coffee on the table to his right, saw three cars drive into his long, dirt driveway and to the courtyard. He wasn’t expecting any visitors, so he was slightly confused. He quickly glanced in the mirror and checked to make sure his tie was straight when the doorbell rang. He calmly made his way to the door and opened it with a neutral expression. 

“Yes, hello. What can I do for you?” He asked the woman across from him, his eyebrows knitted with confusion. A feeling of uneasiness bloomed in his stomach, and he subconsciously tightening his grip on his coffee cup. 

“Herr Lindemann, we have a search warrant against you on grounds of presentation of violence on the internet.”  
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**Author's Note:**

> Go ahead and crucify me


End file.
